


Through the Ages

by dawnlight



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Delusional Disorder, M/M, Middle-Earth Thorin/Modern Bilbo, Psychological condition, except it's not, unbeta fic, with bittersweet happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 07:29:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4213182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawnlight/pseuds/dawnlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I am Thorin, Son of Thrain, Son of Thror, King Under Mountain.” Bilbo had seen many patients with Middle-Age delusion, but this was his first to meet someone so dashingly attractive and gorgeous come to the clinic, tried to convince him that he was a Dwarf King from Third Age trapped in a blasted tree-hugger’s body.</p><p>“Excuse me?” Bilbo smiled wryly, “Do you have any I.D, Sir?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through the Ages

**Author's Note:**

> Forgive my craps about the delusion and grammatical mistakes in my writing. Hope you enjoy reading!

*

_King Thorin arrived at his quarter in the late hour. It was another day he spent on his throne to hear petitions, followed by sitting at his study to deal with the paperwork in which a little piece of him regretted why the people of old had to invent paper and ink in the first place. He would do anything to swap place with Dwalin for a day and spent his time on training ground, barked at young recruits and sparred with his Generals just to get over the back pain he had lately from too much sitting on stone surface._

_His Consort offered to place cushion on the throne, but of course Thorin refused it. How scandalized it would be for a King to go so weak and not be able bearing the burden of his own throne._

 

_"You’re back.”_

_His jaw hardened at the rich scent of savory homemade treats and tea enveloped his senses. Standing by the double door, Thorin was welcomed by his blond haired Consort, approached him in gentle motion and smiled at him dashingly. Thorin pecked his wife on the forehead, with his bigger hands rested on the swollen belly, courtesy of their happy marriage. Bilbo Baggins was a hobbit and a burglar in his dragon quest. Their history of friendship etched into legendary songs and poems, and their love united under bless of Mountain. They’ve been at their worst. Thorin with his gold-madness and Bilbo as the ring-bearer, but they went through the life and face their destiny, either it was riddling with dragon in Erebor or carrying the weight of the world all the way into Mount Doom._

_Now they’re here, ten years after their first meet in Bag End._

_“You don’t have to wait for me.” Thorin nuzzled their nose, inhaling the scent of a mother from his wife and he groaned softly because this was always been his dream, to reclaim not only a physical home but also to find solace by building a family of his own._

_“I don’t marry you to go to bed by myself.” Bilbo, the persistent little Bilbo he always loved and adored, chuckled into his lips before taking his wrist and led him to the sitting room, “I’m having my midnight snack anyway, so I’ll be very happy if you’re joining me.” Thorin watched the small frame in love-struck for there’s no gem in the world would compete with Bilbo. The hobbit was his treasure, his love, and his only._

 

_Soon, as he was settled by his chair in front of the fire, he found auburn haired dwarfling curled across him beneath the warmth of quilt. He looked at Bilbo who served him buttered scones, questioning why their first born camped near the fire and not sleeping at his own chamber. Bilbo poured him black tea while saying, “He refused to sleep, he needed to ask you something and he tells me nothing no matter what I do.” The mother smiled endearingly at Frerin, “so stubborn, just like his father.”_

_“Hey.” Thorin snatched Bilbo and forced his wife to sit on his lap, “the said father was here.”_

_“So what?” Bilbo squealed, “You can’t get angry at me, I’m having your child.”_

_“But I can still punish you, ghivashel.” Thorin ran his hand at Bilbo’s back soothingly, making the mother shuddered at the touch. It was a relief to know the awkward phase of this relationship had ended, and both didn’t need to stall time or drowning in hesitation to stretch their affection. When Thorin came closer, Bilbo would catch his lips and when Thorin embraced the hobbit, Bilbo would only adjust for their heat to merge._

_In the end, the snack left unfinished and the tea went cold and tangy, but the couple won’t bother when they’re deep in ecstasy. It was risky, when their little one slumbered so close, but the sneaky thrusts and lazy grind worth the thrill, suffocated Thorin in his full clothes and dampened the back of his wife’s night gown with sweat at their attempt to cover as much skin as they could._

_“My love…” Thorin whispered into the sweaty forehead, “Bilbo…” he grasped the hips, filling his wife beyond the depth and smiled contently at the sporting warmth across his stomach. They moved against each other slowly, riding out the pleasure and eased the temporary numbness in their limbs before Bilbo getting up from him, a hand covered the rear from spilling. Thorin watched his wife retreated, because for hobbit a stained gown both in the front and back wasn’t a comfy attire to sleep. He still followed Bilbo with his gaze, needed some time to recover from the high before he sipped his tea and finished the rest of his meal._

 

_“Would you talk to Frerin later?” Bilbo appeared at their Prince’s open door as Thorin tucked the boy into bed._

_“In the morning.” Thorin promised, before both parents walked to their bedroom at the end of hall. The King began undressed from his glory and take a quick wash. Settling in their comfy bed, he saw Bilbo yawned in await. It was so adorable, he often thought, to have someone so delicate and pretty in his bed. So he climbed up, towering over his wife in the nakedness. It’s a habit he gained after Bilbo changed the fur into one of Shire’s best quality cotton sheet and quilt. It was soft beneath his skin and produced more comfort as their cover and so he preferred wearing nothing to bed. In early days of their marriage, he managed to convince Bilbo to do the same, but now his wife was a mother and a respectable-still hobbit said the nudity was improper to be seen around children, or Dori._

_“You’re mine, treasure.”_

_Bilbo chuckled, “you’re really an insatiable madman.”_

_“I like the way you say it.” Thorin covered Bilbo with his body, attacking the mother with his kisses and love bites. “Oh my treasure…. why are you so beautiful…” hummed the King, singing a love song he created to tease Bilbo with cheap lyric and cheesy praises. At first Bilbo mistaken it as insult, but now the hobbit would only listen while grinning at how silly the King was beneath thick layers of grumps._

 

…………………………………………………………

 

That was the last thing he remembered, before Thorin woke up on a lonely bed and in the middle of strange bedroom. “Bilbo? Love?” he muttered lowly, dreaded and confused. It was big chamber and smelled like him, felt like he lived here for ages, but then there’s only his scent and his presence in here. He couldn’t sense any sweet and alluring fragrance from his wife or hear any squeal and whine from his son.

Thorin didn’t dare to move, hoping this is just a dream. But then he heard knock on the door and his heart almost jumped out from its cage, when the door opened and revealed a tall figure with blond hair, wearing something similar to hobbit clothes (a suit) except all in the dark color.

 

“Morning, Sir.”

 

Thorin gawked when he recognized the face and the low, lifeless murmur from the attendee. It was Thranduil, no doubt. He must be kidnapped to the elven realm, that bastard.

 

“Thranduil.” He growled.

 

The said blond blinked, dazed with his sudden outburst.

 

“You will answer to my w-…” but as he jumped out from the bed he realized something went wrong. He was tall, as tall as Thranduil and when he looked down his fingers were long and slim, and his legs also slender though muscular, “what the…” with horror he grazed his now cleanly _shaved_ face and not long after, a loud roar could be heard through the entire Durin’s mansion, before the maids and servants in the hallway witnessed the blond haired man running for _his_ life, with very angry –and very naked- Thorin chased the poor man with butter knife,

“I’M GONNA KILL YOU!”

“I’m sorry for waking you up, Sir!” the blond shouted, though amusement filled in the grey orbs instead fear. “But we need to be in Isengard by noon, the jet scheduled to depart in the next hour!”

“ELF-SORCERER! GIVE MY BODY BACK!”

 

…………………………………………………………

 

So that’s how Thorin ended in Ortanc Clinic, bewildered to be dragged by _his_ own personal guards with both hands tied. They tried to cuff him, but suddenly the man was very powerful that _he_ could bend metal and broke the cuff with not so much effort. The same case went with the chains, so one of the guards, Bard, suggested tying the man with rope. It strangely worked, but that doesn’t mean Thorin won’t stop struggling for _his_ freedom, so the guards took liberty to sedate _him_ for _his_ own –and others- safety.

 

“What is this place?”

 

It just happened that Bilbo was looming behind the reception desk when there’s commotion in the front door. He exchanged gaze with Grima, before he stood and had eyebrows taunted at the sight of men in black suit dragging someone like a criminal. Of course it’s not the first time for a criminal to enter this clinic. It’s a psychiatric clinic, run by Maiar Foundation and led by Saruman White. Bilbo was the apprentice of Dr.Grey and Grima was a hypnotherapist. Interested with the group, Bilbo stood facing them while Grima began texting in each nurses and doctors, promising a good show.

 

“I’ve had appointment with Dr.Grey.” a blond haired pretty man walked at the reception and spoke with haste to him, “under the name of Andy Greenleaf.”

“Dr.Grey is on a meeting with the Council but he’ll be back soon. I’m his assistance in charge. Would you like to register the patient first?” Bilbo asked gently, patiently, but as soon as the tied man reached the desk, he was welcomed with a roar. “You!” barked the deep, baritone voice, startled Bilbo in sudden fear by such wild stranger. But he took a breath and braced himself. He’s a psychiatrist. He studied people behavior and now working on his thesis about delusional disorder. So he clenched his palm and straightened his back, chin ups and eyes determined. When the man glared at him, he glared back but with promises of reassurance and a promise of no harm will come along with him.

Stoically he nodded, staging a first meet with stranger as if they’re just passing by the road instead standing in the middle of dramatic ruckus only happened in crime movie, “Good day, Sir.” His voice was low and smooth, but respective in tone. “May I know your name?”

And so the man spat, “Don’t pretend you don’t know! I am Thorin, Son of Thrain, Son of Thror, King Under Mountain.” Bilbo had seen many patients with Middle-Age delusion, but this was his first to meet someone so dashingly attractive and gorgeous come to clinic, _tried_ to convince him that _he_ was a Dwarf King from Third Age trapped in a blasted tree-hugger’s body.

 _It was a shame_ , his naughty mind said tough he immediately blinked to shush away the distracting thought.

Bilbo smiled wryly, “Do you have any I.D, Sir?”

“What is an _aidee_?” the man barked, “Tell me, Bilbo, is this a prank to humiliate me? Are you turning your back at me again and taking side with these clowns of Bargeman and Elven King?!”

Too struck to have the man knew his name, Bilbo could only gape. Let it remained as mystery for now, he told himself again and turned to Andy Greenleaf to ask similar question. The man gave him a driving license and he read the name as ‘Thorin Durin.’ He input the data into reception’s computer before he walked out the desk and led the men to the private waiting room in Gandalf’s quarter. He saw the guard let the man to sit at a long couch, hands still tied but at last Thorin was given a space to breathe.

The guards then dismissed themselves from the room except for the pretty blond and Bard.

 

“Do you want some tea?” Bilbo broke the tension in the room. Both men in suit refused but the patient, still laboring harsh breath but partially at ease despite the bond, stared at him intently while muttering, “black tea, no sugar.” There’s grief and longing in the tone, which unexpectedly affected Bilbo in the same bitter way. He ended putting two blocks of sugar anyway into the stranger tea before he placed the cup at near coffee table. “Please, he needs his hand.” He asked Bard as if he knew the brunette was the leader, the one in charge.

“He broke his own cousin’s nose with his skull and stabbed his little brother’s palm with butter knife.” Bard answered low but firm. “He’s dangerous.”

“He was scared and confused.” Bilbo reasoned. “And he needs help.”

 

…………………………………………………………

 

‘Bard’ and ‘Thranduil’ exchanged gaze for a while, before the brunette walked at the couch with a sigh, “I won’t take responsible if he harmed you.” As soon as the rope loosened, Thorin eyed each person in the room with his glare, but now he found Bilbo and heard Bilbo’s soft words defending him, the man realized he did fear this strange world he awakened with, and he was confused to see himself, his family and people he knew in the form of Men.

“Here, have a drink when it’s still warm.” Bilbo offered him his tea and with an awkward nod Thorin wrapped his fingers around the delicate handle. It’s weird. His hand looked so small, almost bony to compare with his real body. Now under the presence of familiar person, _his beloved_ , the storming rage cleared from his mind and he began reasoning his arrival into this world. What’s this place? What happened with him? What about his body, his family, his kingdom?

He sipped at the tea and couldn’t help but groaned in appreciation. He always asked for bitter taste, but Bilbo, _his_ Bilbo, never listened and would freely add some sugar into his tea or coffee, said that he deserved some sweetness to cheer his gloomy life. And to have _this_ Bilbo did the same, it made his face heated and his heart swollen in slight reminder of home.

“Do you want a second?” Bilbo asked and Thorin nodded again, now eager. Long they spent sitting without actually exchanging words and only sharing tea time, until the door opened to reveal Gandalf. The old wizard was also dressed in hobbit fashion (they called it suit) shaded in grayish blue. Gandalf was beardless though no less old than _he_ usually looked and _his_ hair trimmed and combed neatly in a way it worth to be laugh off, if Thorin wasn’t so depressed with his own situation.

“Andy.” Gandalf greeted the tree-hugger, “I’ve come as soon as I can.”

“Thank you, Gandalf. I don’t know what happen to him. Suddenly Mr. Durin claimed to be a Dwarf King and he insisted I’m an Elf-Sorcerer. He refused to wear clothes and he didn’t even know how to use toilet.” The bloody elf-man shook _his_ head, “attempted to use his grandmother’s Ming vase as _chamberpot_ …”

“Well, that was interesting.” Gandalf chuckled in amusement, “and you did the right thing Bilbo, taming him with tea. No one could resist your finest tea leaves mix.”

Bilbo raised _his_ cup while smiling proudly, “cheers.”

Thorin watched Bilbo for a while, studying the auburn haired man. Bilbo was still shorter and smaller than him, still so delicate and pretty, only the stomach flat and without baby. It became a harsh reminder to him, that he wasn’t in his land anymore, wasn’t surrounded by his family.

“Who am I?” Suddenly, he muttered while looking down at his hands, and then spread his gaze to Gandalf, Thranduil, Bard, before his eyes pierced back to Bilbo who now staring back at him, “Why am I here?”

 

…………………………………………………………

 

It was against medical confidentiality to share a patient story, but Thorin insisted Bilbo to stay during the session. And so when the streak of dusk appeared in the horizon and darkening the room Bilbo couldn’t help but silently wept for the man after he listened to the last piece of Thorin’s story. The delusion was so strong it almost felt _real_. There’s a part in Bilbo wished it was real, just so the man could accept it rather than denying, because embracing the delusion and understand it as the past-life memory were the easiest way to move on with life.

He was also surprised to have a big part in Thorin’s story. They were strangers, and yet there’s intimacy in the way Thorin mentioned him, and fondness in the man’s gaze each time their path met in the tale. There also brief information about grief, distrust and mention about a Great War against evilness which rouse his inner thirst about historical events because there’ll be no such detail from books and fictions. If it was the part of delusion, then it’ll be worth to be written into hundred chapters of series.

In the end of their meeting, Gandalf thanked Thorin for the share of story and sent the man to go home. Gandalf hardly offered solution, because psychiatrists were paid to listen, not to dictate people lives. Though sometimes they might prescribe anti-depressant or helped predicating/guiding through alternative futures, for now Gandalf only asked Thorin to rest and so the man left with scowling his thanks.

 

“Wait.”

 

It was enough telling for Gandalf, but not for Bilbo. So he followed Thorin outside the hall and caught up with the man, “I…” Bilbo was taken aback because Thorin stopped and glanced at him, “I… I wonder if you would tell me more. I’m sorry.” He immediately apologized for his bold action, “it’s just…it’s a nice story.”

“It’s a delusion.” Thorin answered bitterly, mimicking the words Gandalf had said in a brief explanation to _his_ condition.

“It’s still a nice story.” Bilbo replied lowly, now with his fingers interlocked and eyes forced to look down, “I’m sorry again.” He took a deep breath and looked at Thorin again, now with the emotion masked, “Thank you for sharing, Mr.Durin. I hope you had a good night sleep and a better tomorrow.”

 

…………………………………………………………

 

No, Thorin didn’t have good night sleep or a better tomorrow.

He still couldn’t believe he was in the year 2015 of Modern Age. It’s still Middle Earth, but it was thousands years ahead since his age and there’s no Elves or Dwarves or Hobbit except in folklore and legends. Long he spent in his study room, watching this square screen implanted to the wall they’ve called _Tee-Vee_. He was so out of place, and he was ashamed to admit it. No one in Durin’s House spoke Khuzdul anymore, not even his parents and grandparents in which they gave him strange look when he tried to converse in one. To add into the oddness, he cried the first time he saw his mother again. He even prompted to hug Frerin and apologized for numerous time to the blond -for stabbing the palm- even though he got plates and vases thrown at his head along with shout, ‘go away you creep!’

So many things returned to his life, overwhelmed him with joy and in the same time, mourn. He was having his family back, but in return, he was all alone again. He lost his Consort, his son, his unborn child, Even Fili and Kili wasn’t born yet, since Dis was merely still an unmarried young lady.

 

In the morning, this Andy will come to his room and explained about his daily schedule. It felt strange to have the former Elven King as his assistant and it was _fun_ to be able ordering the haughty blond around, though Andy will only raise eyebrows at any absurd command such as _‘kneel and eat the dirt’_ before explained to him, an assistant was a person who helped other managing their _messy_ life, not a puppet-doll moved by strings to do as their master pleased.

The smart mouth hadn’t change though, still so snobbish even without royal status.

A couple days after his arrival into this new world, Thorin still had many things to complain and many more he couldn’t understand. Like this square thing (phone) resonating voice message from others, or to commute between places inside the metal ram (car) and the metal eagle (jet). There was also problem with his clothes. He felt underdressed to wear hobbit suit. He kept thinking it wasn’t made for him. But it was better than wandering around naked. He had enough women –there are so many women in this house! - seeing him bare and couldn’t look at him in the face ever since.

After brief explanation from Andy about his job, Thorin understood that he was a leader of a Builder Guild (Construction Firm) and had his current condition explained to his co-leader and wisest cousin Balin so he could attend the meeting and stayed observing without obliged to say anything, because by Mahal he didn’t know a thing about modern construction, except that his company was specialized in building steel frame works.

 _If only Bilbo was here_ , he often though with misery.

Wait, Bilbo _is_ here. Not actually his Consort, but the other one, who worked with Gandalf in Isengard. If he was stuck in this body, then might as well he requested for the blond’s presence near him. It’s not in the same way as he needed his Consort because no matter what, this Bilbo was a stranger and that would be wrong if he unleashed his stress over the poor man. At least, he could use this Bilbo as a good luck charm, or better, as a trusted friend because it seemed Bilbo understood his story and willing to listen more.

 

“Thranduil.”

In the morning of his third day, Thorin called his assistant during breakfast -he knew it’s not Andy name. It only amused him to humiliate the blond by pretending he was bossing around the Elven King. “Prepare your metal eagle. We’re going to Isengard as soon as possible.”

 

…………………………………………………………

 

The next three days after meeting Thorin had been spent with dull ache and boredom. Even though Bilbo shared his distress with Gandalf, his godfather only chuckled through _his_ pipe, silently teased Bilbo about how smitten he was because of Thorin. How he couldn’t stop talking about Thorin’s disease –he preferred it as academic discussion- and even prompted his own hypothesis about the best treatment for the delusion. How he often told the old man about how real it could be. And Gandalf would only shook _his_ head and said playfully, ‘love is dangerous, dear Bilbo. It lured you with fluttering affection and then tortured you with undeniable obsession.’

 **I’m not in love** , was the usual end to their conversation, along with Bilbo stomping his way out Gandalf’s room and returned home with conflicted heart.

 

“How are you doing, lover-boy?”

Dr. Sauron Black greeted him, before taking a seat across him at the lunch cafeteria in the back of clinic. Bilbo grumbled even darker, as the young psychiatrist/criminal analyst acknowledged his displeased scoff with a mischievous look and a gleaming smile. Bilbo cursed under his breath. Judging at how gossipy Gandalf was, everyone in clinic probably believed he had a crush over Thorin. Yet he tried to keep his dignity while muttering, “I’m not a lover boy.”

“Of course.” The dark haired man chuckled into _his_ latte. “I’ve heard from Angmar you’re sort of became a main heroine in Middle Age romance.”

“And you’re welcome to be the Dark Lord, Sauron.” Bilbo retorted back.

The amber eyes gave him a pointed look, “there, there, no need to be hostile my friend. You must understand why you’ve became everyone’s sweetheart, we’re only worried for you, especially after all those crushes you’ve got from the previous erotomanics…” Bilbo let out a loud sigh as his former college friend reminded him again some cases he was involved as the victim of possessive love delusion. One went to mental hospital. One goes to prison and under restraining order. One sentenced to death –and that’s not because of Bilbo, the man was a serial killer to begin with.

 

“Do you think I’m cursed?” Bilbo asked exasperatedly. “And Mr.Durin has grandiose delusion, mind you. We’ve never met before and that would not fit to the profile of an erotomanic.”

“I wouldn’t jump into conclusion, Bilbo.” Sauron muttered, “In some cases, the subject could have more than one delusion disorder. Like Azog. He believed he’s the reincarnation of Voldemort and he believed you’re his dearest pet snake. He told me in one session about how he was glad you’re reborn into human and he hoped to _keep_ you during his last days.”

“Stop it.” Bilbo pouted, recalled again his mistake to accompany Sauron interviewed one of dangerous serial killer in Middle Earth. It’s not as bad as his first encounter with Smeagol –who stalked him through high school days- and Bolg who almost harassed him during his school trip in Mount Gundabad. Azog might look at him as fond as the icy blue eyes could manage, but it still way too creepy to receive affection from a psychopath. So Bilbo shuddered. “That man still gave me nightmare, you know, with his horrible facial surgery and the hissing sound he made when he spoke. Thank Valar he’s nowhere near my life ever again. And why you’ve had to talk about him anyway?! I almost forget him!”

“Maybe I love tormenting you?” Sauron laughed, “Seriously Bilbo, you can’t be a psychiatrist if you cannot move on from your own trauma.”

 _But I’m also a human being. I had my limit. I could break_. Bilbo protested from his gaze, but he of all people understood why his friend said so. In the end, he only nodded and finished his lunch, let Sauron led him into a lighter conversation. It’s about another serial killer based on jealousy, but considered it’s not about Bilbo then it was an interesting topic to discuss.

 

“Dr.Baggins.” Just then Grima entered the cafeteria, smirking right at Bilbo as the older approached his table, “You had a guest waiting in the hall.”

“Are you sure it’s for me?” Bilbo scrunched his eyebrows, “Except it’s my cousin from Shire, I only knew people who worked here.” True he was born and educated in Shire, and only worked in Ortanc due to researching for his thesis. And with his history as the object of obsessions, he’d rather be unwelcomed to strangers. “My cousin sure will call me if they’re visiting.”

“Oh shut it you lover boy.” Grima smacked him in the back and Bilbo suddenly blushed. _Oh, no._ he frowned at both grinning doctor with face gradually turning blue. _Oh, no._ he repeated.

“Go, Bilbo.” Sauron whispered huskily, “you don’t want _The King_ waited for any longer now.”

 

Just how much people knew about Thorin’s story? Aren’t there some rules about client’s privacy? He swore he shared no one about the story so he really needed to have a long talk with Gandalf, after all. If Thorin knew, the man could sue Gandalf as an oath-breaker. That’ll be bad for the clinic.

 

Sulking despite he’s already in his late twentieth, Bilbo walked out the cafeteria and ignored every knowing smile addressed to him from the passing nurses and doctors. Even Alfrid let out a low cackle when he passed reception desk no matter how hard Bilbo glared at the nurse.

He spared a glance at the couches and he found Thorin sitting at the corner, stern face turned at the wide frameless window and deep blue eyes gazed at the Isengard Central Park across the street. Bilbo could feel his face heated. No, it’s not because how perfect the shaping and the shading of Thorin’s face, or how the man aged deliciously –he’s not even sure it’s a nice description about someone’s age- or how the midnight blue v-neck sweater perfectly hugged the built figure and how breathtaking handsome the legs… Bilbo had to consider his sanity for a second for admiring the long legs, the broad shoulder, the faint stubs, the thin lips, everything.

 

“H-Hello.”

 

He approached the couch, averted the man attention from the scenery. He smiled, knowing that denying his feeling will make it hard to control his brain activity and body gestures. It’s always better to be open and honest, and if he was nearly bouncing from his toes because he was so happy to meet this man again, then so be it.

Thorin smiled back and if the world was made out from comic book, Bilbo would be facing sunray and he would be simply turned into dust despite it’s just a small greet. “I hoped to talk with you again.” the man began. “Of course, if you want to listen more into my story.”

“I don’t mind.” Bilbo bit his bottom lip, immediately regretting his impulsive answer. “I’m still working though, at least until 7.” He added after taking a calming breath to sober up his ridiculous inner euphoria. Man, he was hopelessly in love.

Or lust.

 

“Can’t you clear your schedule?”

 _So pushy_. Bilbo was startled to hear the request. But he was even surprised with himself because in trance he nodded and texted Gandalf for permission to end his shift early. Whether Gandalf was very kind today or the oldman knew, he got affirmative reply soon after. He let out another sigh. “Umm, let me fetch my bag in locker.” He walked passed reception again and into the locker room, before he leaned his head and just breathed because suddenly he had an urge to faint.

“Are you going out with him?” Sauron appeared next to him, asked in concern. And when he only answered with low groan while opening his locker to gather his stuffs, the brunette doctor muttered again, “Should I remind you about the standard procedure?”

“Keep emergency phone in my pocket and keep my pants on all the time.” Bilbo scowled. “Taser in my jacket, just in case, and I’m ready to go to battle.” He was pretty aware with self-defense because he was dealing with mental health patients. “I’m going to say I’ll be fine but judging from my bitter experience I don’t really mind to be overly cautious. And thank you for your concern.”

Sauron shrugged, “I don’t do it for you. I’m tired to see you as victim.”

“And I’m tired standing before the court.” Bilbo closed his locker door.

 

…………………………………………………………

 

“So, you’re a medic?”

It turned out Thorin didn’t mind when Bilbo chose to take a walk in the park. They strolled by the Central Park and though it tickled him to have Bard and Andy shadowing behind them by a few feet, he also felt safe to know he’s not actually left alone with Thorin. He could still recall it vividly how strong and vicious the man was when the guards dragged _him_ into Ortanc. How ferocious the angry shout that it was a miracle nobody dead from heart attack.

“I’m a psychiatrist.” Bilbo said, before he corrected his words since _the King_ was coming from Middle-Age and so he needed to find a matched definition, “a physician, but I’m more into counseling. It’s like a healer for broken heart.” he smiled sheepishly at Thorin, because his lack of knowledge about Middle-Age must make he looked utterly ridiculous right now.

“Is there any cure for broken heart?” Surprisingly Thorin asked back in a pure astonishment.

“No. I can’t cure it entirely, but I can help people went through it, so they could move on with their life.” Bilbo chuckled at how serious Thorin listened to his explanation and it made him happy to gain such respect from the man. “It’s a very nice job, listening people and helped them to find a way out from their misery.”

“You-… I mean, my Consort.” Thorin started, and paused for a while. Bilbo pursed his lips, couldn’t stop this rushing heartbeat every time Thorin accidentally addressed him as the King’s Consort. “He had the similar job like yours. He used to attend the court with me and helped me in sorting our people’s problem. He was so gentle…” the man stared at him, yet Bilbo was stung to know the longing in the sapphire blue orbs wasn’t actually addressed to him. “He’s a Hobbit, a gentle folk from the west of Bree. He lived a simple and comfortable life in Hobbiton for years, up until my Company barged into his house, and taking him into a quest of reclaiming my homeland from the reign of dragon…” It’s the same tale the man had shared before, only now with increased intimacy and intense appraise rolled from each words, maybe because it was re-told as love story. Thorin adored _his_ wife for the courage and the bravery of the hobbit, but then then man also regretted _his_ blind love and greed which caused misfortunes into their life.  

 

“I don’t belong to this world.” He said with finality.

 

“I know.” Bilbo said, tried hard not to let it sounded out of pity. He would never understand the pain of love, because he only knew how to fall not to keep falling. “But here you are now.” He tucked his hands into his jacket because suddenly he wanted to reach the man to simply tap on the shoulder in sympathy. He wanted to invade the personal space and let their shoulder bumped just to comfort Thorin. He couldn’t be the consort, but he didn’t mind if they became friends.

Thorin stopped walking and turned completely at him, “Master Baggins,” the King began with heavy whisper, “I know fate brought me into this world, but do you have any predicament about my _fate_ as the King? Don’t you think…” the man lost the air and Bilbo felt a deep stab suffocated him at the way Thorin choked a grueling sob and growled lowly to fight back the overwhelming emotion,

“I can’t be dead.” He only breathed it out, his face hardened than ever despite red flashed in his eyes. He blinked back the upcoming tears and gritted his teeth, “I can’t be dead.” But his voice cracked and his tears spilled. It opened the gate to the flood of emotion in Bilbo as he tucked his head and shared the sentiment into his silent sob.

 

_“After two years struggling, I could finally court my hobbit. Now I’m a father of two, one was my little Frerin, he was five and he’s my wonderful prince. The other one we don’t know but my Consort was a great mother so whether it’s a he or she, we hoped it born perfect and healthy…”_

 

It was a happy ending. The tale supposed to have a happy ending, but here the King was, stuck in a different life time and sharing _his_ grief with a stranger who looked too similar with _his_ Consort.

“I’m sorry.” Bilbo wiped away his tears, “I’m sorry. I’m not supposed to cry. I’m a pro. Each day people came for my counsel and I could manage the emotion at bay. So I’m sorry for my…” and he let Thorin approached close, expected to get words of comfort despite how ironic it was or maybe a pat in shoulder to sober him up from mourning. But Thorin said nothing, only wiped his tears with the warm thumbs and somehow it only hurt him more that he began wailing.

Life was so unfair.

 

…………………………………………………………

 

Thorin didn’t know for sure, but death could be his worst. It was unfair, years after years he fought to find happiness and then just as he began a peaceful life with his beloved one, he was stuck into this body and forced to live in this strange world. If he’s not dead, who’s living inside his body? Sure he couldn’t be at two places at the same time or he would remember the sensation of dualism, if he’s not getting mad about it first.

“I’m sorry for crying.”

It was hard to reason about his current condition. Half of him wanted to believe he was really daydreaming about being a King, because he’s too old and too tired to be selfish. But he knew it was real. He knew this wasn’t his body, this wasn’t his life. That was why he sought this Bilbo and told the man everything before he began adapting into this world and began forgetting about his former life. It didn’t give him any clue on how to return, but just as the physician said talking helped him going through this without having to break into madness.

“You sure had a gentle heart.” Thorin couldn’t help but smile.

“I’m not.” Bilbo sniffled into _his_ handkerchief. “Before today my heart was made of stone.”

“I believe that.” Thorin averted his gaze from the young man and looked up at the sky, so he didn’t have to compare this man with his hobbit. However he couldn’t help to, because at first, his Bilbo was very fragile, easily spooked and freaked with new things. But the journey was tough, filling the hobbit with courage and saved lives with _his_ wisdom. So if this one was made with strength then he won’t repeat his mistake by underestimate this man. “I will only say thank you to share your condolence for my grief. I really appreciated that, Master Baggins.”

“Please, call me Bilbo.” The man said, “You saw me crying, you’re not allowed to call me with formality.”

Thorin cleared his throat. He wasn’t sure if he could say the name again without claiming the person as his. But he nodded, because he didn’t dare to refuse the request. So he reminded himself to be careful in addressing the physician in the future.

 

“Then,” after they drowned in long pause, Bilbo began asking again, “what will you do now?”

Thorin curt his lips, “I don’t know. It’s hard to just move on with life. It still felt so wrong.”

“Patience.” Bilbo said softly, “and be honest to your feeling. I would be here, you know, to listen to you.”

A smile broke the frown in his face, a content feel which began seeped to calm his stormed heart. Yes, Bilbo was still here, he reminded himself and he’s still alive though in different form. This could be a second chance for both of them. It’s hard to believe but this was all he had for now. “I will be very happy if you could do so.” Thorin let his smile reached Bilbo and a tickle of familiar smugness hit him to see the younger man blushed in return.

“U-Umm…” Bilbo stuttered, “Then what about we got somewhere to sit and maybe eat? I think my legs signaled that I’ve had enough walking for today.”

“Very well.” Thorin nodded and glanced at his back, “Bargeman, Elf! Lead us to a tavern.”

 

…………………………………………………………

 

The said ‘tavern’ was actually a country-style restaurant specialized in Shire’s delicacies. It was run by a distant family of Underhill which came from Bree City. When they entered, Thorin said nothing at the rustic yet clean interior, and surprisingly calm when the barmaid handed menu to the four occupant of their table. The man even read the menu thoroughly while Bilbo conversed with Mary –he’s a regular in here, as expected- about ‘the usual thing’ and if Thorin casted him a judging look, he preferred to ignore it.

“Stuffed chicken with cheese,” Andy said calmly, “and honey lemon tea, please.”

And that’s just sparked the light of interest from Thorin. “Thranduil, you only ate green.”

Andy looked terrified, “I hope you won’t get offended but I’m pretty much an omnivore just like you, sir.” While Thorin only snorted darkly and made no progress in ordering anything, Bilbo took liberty to order a meat-fiesta sandwich for Thorin and a cup of chamomile tea.

 

“In my time, Thranduil was an Elf King.” Thorin boasted at Bilbo while smiling coyly at the assistant. “He’s a vain and greedy old Elf King. During our quest, he imprisoned me and my company, promised us to rot in his dungeons, yet after the dragon was dead, he dared groveling to my kingdom door, begging for my treasures…” Bilbo was sure the tale was a bit too biased, but to see Thorin enjoyed it thoroughly in mocking Andy, he couldn’t help but smile.

 

“I’m not a bloody Elf.” Andy whispered under _his_ breath.

“Of course you aren’t. How many times I had to tell you that? ” Bard snorted as the only one who could hear it.

 

“He’s your assistant now.” Bilbo patted Thorin shoulder in friendly way, “be kind to him. He’s taking care of you.”

Thorin scrunched his face, “You won’t change, aren’t you? You’re always in Elves side.”

“I’m not taking side.” Bilbo winced. “I’m just merely stating the truth, right Mr.Greenleaf?”

Andy nodded solemnly. “Yes, though I don’t dislike the change, Mr.Baggins.” the assistant said, somehow Bilbo found a spark of amusement behind the expressionless façade, “My boss formerly was too kind and proper but now he was less lame and more interesting than ever.” and there, finally Bilbo saw a small smirk twitched in the corner of _his_ mouth, “Imagine, I can call him _wanker_ all the time without getting fired.”

 

“Andy.” Bard warned lowly while Thorin only frowned in confusion and Bilbo shrieked into a loud giggle.

“What is it?” Thorin deadpanned, first asking the assistants then watching Bilbo who was laughed in mirth, “I know you enjoyed to see me suffered, lovely, but I hope you are more merciful than this.”

“I didn’t say anything.” Bilbo whined, tried to stifle his laugh. Thankfully their food made appearance and it stopped Thorin from cautiously stared at Bilbo and began digging into _his_ sandwich without any question or complain. The sight was so heartbreaking for Bilbo, to have a stranger trusted him enough to eat the meal he picked -and without even a second glance. It was hurt to see Thorin trusted him. It made him jealous with the man’s wife, because no matter what, the King would never see Bilbo as he was. The King would only comfortable around him because Bilbo looked similar to _his_ Consort.

Wait, why Bilbo had to be so jealous in the first place?

 

…………………………………………………………

 

“Thank you for today.”

 

In the afternoon, the car stopped in front of a boutique apartment. Bilbo tapped the front seat to say good bye to Bard and Andy, then stretched his hand at Thorin, “I know there are still many things you should learn about this world and you’ll probably get busy catching up with work but I’d like to hang out again sometimes.” When Thorin only stared at his gesture, Bilbo caught the man’s palm and shook them in a firm handshake.

When he released the hand, Thorin grabbed him still, “hang-out… like what?”

“Oh right. Culture gap.” Bilbo giggled and glad he did so because it covered the red blush spreading his face because the holding hands, “I mean, a gathering… um, how to say this, Andy?”

“Courtship.” Andy prompted while chuckling lightly and Bilbo immediately made incoherent sound of protest at the blond haired man. It blew his face with swollen warmth around his cheeks, made he felt so puffy in embarrassment.

 

“Why are you so red?” Thorin’s out-of-topic notion only added more coal into his flaming heart.

“It’s because you keep holding me!” Bilbo hissed in return. “You’re too warm for me.” and he squeaked at how ambiguous it sounded. Even Andy and Bard only shared silent snickers but of course, they won’t do anything to save him from his misery.

Bilbo sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m not really myself today.”

 

“Are you a virgin?”

 

Again, wrong question.

 

“Why?” He decided not to answer it, for the sake of his dignity because he didn’t want to admit he **is** a virgin and in the same time, he also hated lying. “Are Middle-Age folks going around asking such private question?”

 

“My consort was a virgin, before we met.” Thorin smiled fondly and Bilbo thought life indeed unfair to make him _fancied_ someone like Thorin. Someone so _tall, dark, handsome,_ and sadly, _taken._ “He really look like you, so adorable in denial.” and _excuse me_ , if Bilbo was fine before to get compared with this said Consort, he disliked it now he knew how lucky the hobbit was to make Thorin madly in love with.

“You are so pure, Bilbo.”

 

That was enough to forget everything except locking his gaze into the deep blue orbs.

 

Thorin squeezed his wrist gently, before letting him go, “to tell the truth, I wish you to live with me, so I can keep you safe. But it was mad love before and I don’t want to the history repeated itself on you.” Bilbo pursed his lips, biting the tip of his tongue just so he didn’t have to blurt something stupid and submitted to the offer. He heard the story, the darkest time in Thorin’s relationship with the Consort. The mad love which almost kill the hobbit and though Thorin was different now, Bilbo was still not the one _he_ sought.

So he only nodded morosely and opened the door. Without turning, he walked into the pathway because as soon as he put distance between Thorin and him, the less he would hate himself from falling in love. He didn’t even dare to correct his mind from this false deduction. This wasn’t a Middle-Age drama, where everyone had their soul tied to their chosen _One_.

 _Don’t look back._ He told himself as he arrived at the porch. _Don’t you dare turning back, Bilbo Baggins._ But another voice in his mind reasoned that the car probably leaving already and there’s nothing wrong to check. So he swallowed a big gulp and slowly twisted his head to peek from the corner of his eyes.

 

His breath hitched.

 

“You’re not leaving.” He gasped it out before he even thinking about the impact of the words.

 

“I don’t plan to.” Thorin was right behind him, standing a few feet on the cobbled pathway, staring at him with thoughtful look and made his entire body trembled in a strange bliss. Thorin was here, he thought, and soon he realized how dangerous it could be to invite a stranger –a delusional patient- into his private life. This can’t be right. He shouldn’t trust Thorin to enter his house.

 

But with a gulp washing down the worry, Bilbo unlocked the door and let the man in.

 

…………………………………………………………

 

Thorin was aware with the concept of _apartment_. It’s a modern compound of living quarters. In Erebor, he lived at Royal Halls with his family and friends in a centric order of housing settlements surrounded a garden of sand and stones. So he only followed Bilbo in silent, watching the back of the smaller man with a bittersweet longing radiated from his every pore. Thorin knew he shouldn’t be here. Bard told it’s _creepy_ –whatever it means- and there’s a high chance Bilbo will reject his presence. But how could he leave? This Bilbo was the only connection to his old life which didn’t make him cringe in disappointment or haunted his heart with unnecessary fear.

“Do you want some more tea?” Bilbo asked from the open kitchen area. Here Thorin stood in front of a bar table. He took a seat at one of wood stool and hummed lowly as he looked around, familiarized himself with the interior. Compared to Bag End, this place was lack of woodcraft and too pristine white it almost felt ‘Elvish’ if not for the ridiculous amount of books and potted plants scattered around the house.

“You still love gardening.” Thorin muttered.

“I _always_ love gardening.” Bilbo gave him a look, “It helped calmed the stress, nurturing and talking to plants. You should try it.”

Thorin smiled, “I don’t think so. My hands are _too warm_ for the plants, they’ll die within a touch…” and the innocent smile of his turned into a devious smirk to see Bilbo choked and flustered again because of his tease.

“Shut up.” Bilbo giggled breathlessly before the golden haired placed a cup of tea in front of him. “Just drink your tea, gentleman. I’ll make something for dinner.”

 

Modern folks said ‘what a pleasant dinner’ if they spent enough time nibbling the foods while exchanging hollow praises to each other. The course ended when everyone at the table had their own portion of the host’s _pleasantries_ whether they wanted it or not. Thankfully, Thorin’s family wasn't so different from eons ago. The dining table was still round and full with meat-based delight while none really used the spoon except for snatching someone’s ice cream.

Bilbo seemed understand his need to touch his food without Shire’s table manner –just like in the tavern (restaurant) with the sandwich- and so he respected the host’s cleanliness by making sure his palms washed _clean_. As they sat by a small _bistro_ table, Bilbo explained about the concept of wrapped sandwich. “This is _Kebab_ with a very delicious recipe from Southfathings which was well known with their hundreds varieties of herbs, tea leaves and spices.” When Thorin took a bit, he groaned lowly at the strong yet savory scent of the fillings. He couldn’t explain it for he knew nothing about cooking aside that it tasted good and it made him enjoyed his meal with ultimate comfort.

 

“Are you staying for the night?”

“I’m not going anywhere.” As if he could, after devouring two more of greasy sandwiches and a citrus pudding, Thorin was glued to the couch, long legs spread limply on the red rug.

Just trust Bilbo to strangle him near death with blissful meals, he thought contently as he saw the man cleaned the dishes. “Then I’ll prepare your bed and get some clothes if you want to change. Bathroom is in the end of the hall.” Bilbo paused for a while, “You can use toilet now, right?”

Thorin grinned lazily, “I don’t trust this toilet.” He whispered huskily though he already used the thing properly after he found out how. Besides, dwarves already invented an inner plumbing system and managed their waste since the age of Durin the First. He only pissed in the vase to annoy the people back in Durin’s House.  

“You better be.” Bilbo frowned when the man ditched the apron and approached him, “I will teach you, if I must, because I don’t have anything close enough to be used as chamberpot and I will be very cross of you if I had to deal with the… _aftermath_.”

Thorin barked into laugh, “Relax, pretty. I’m just kidding.” He tapped the empty seat next to him, “now sit with me. I think it’s the right time for a song.”

Bilbo blinked. “Wait,” the younger man whispered in astonished daze, “you can sing?”

“Yes.” While stating the truth, Thorin lured Bilbo to come closer and pulled the man onto his side, gaining a low squeak from now blushing blond, but then Thorin released his grip and let Bilbo decided whether to stay near him or drawing a distance as proper as a Shire folk would do.

Bilbo was tensed with the press of intimacy, but didn’t budge and so Thorin ran his hand on the smaller back, enveloped Bilbo with a loose, comforting hug before he started to hum.

 

…………………………………………………………

 

_Home is behind, the world ahead_

_And there are many paths to tread_

_Through shadow, to the edge of night_

_Until the stars are all alight_

_Mist and shadow, cloud and shade_

_All shall fade_

_All shall fade_

 

Bilbo wanted to cry, because Thorin’s voice was too arousing even when the man delivered _his_ pain of parting with the past life into the low and husky melody. He can’t take this. He shouldn’t be attached too much to Thorin because he knew the King will only give him a broken heart.

 

“I missed you, Bilbo.”

 

What a rude way to clash his hope, by brushing his hair with the hot breath and placing a gentle kiss on his side head. He wished to get up from the hug and then asked Thorin to get out from his house and never again coming back to his life. But he also wanted this. He desired the King and he needed the man to acknowledge Bilbo as he was, not as the shadow of the Consort.

 

Maybe he’s also drifting into madness.

 

“Don’t you think it’s unfair…” Bilbo felt heavy when he addressed the words, but he really couldn’t stand the erratic heartbeat from Thorin’s presence attacking the remains of his sanity, “if you think of me as your Consort. Because I’m not your wife, Thorin. I’m just a stranger to you.”

 

“Yes, you are.” Somehow to have Thorin admitted it with the finality in the tone only crushed more and more of his chaotic heart. “But I’m also a stranger to this body so we’re even.”

 

“Don’t say that.” Bilbo scrunched his brows, “this is your body now. You controlled it as well as your future from now on. It’ll be hard, I know, but so did life if all we did was staring and not started moving on with it.” He said it breathlessly, with his gaze stubbornly narrowed as he looked into the dark blue orbs. Yes he took advantage of Thorin and shamelessly manipulated the man with his words. But this man was too SOMBER and Bilbo HATED miserable people who thought their life ended while they didn’t fight enough to end!

 

“This is your second chance, Thorin.” He dared raising his palm and cupped the man’s face, “Take it!” he said firmly, “Treasure it!”

 

And if Thorin answer was by marking his lips with a deep kiss, then Bilbo should know better than backing up.

 

…………………………………………………………

 

“-it doesn’t matter. You come here right now and explain everything.” Bilbo woke up to the sound of low grunt. So noisy, he murmured into his pillow and stilled right after because it’s not actually a pillow. He was stuffed his face into Thorin’s naked chest and with his face gradually heated in red at the memory of last night kiss, Bilbo was also thank the Valar they just share a kiss –and later, shared bed- or Bilbo might actually die from embarrassment. He’s a virgin, okay? Even he’s not a teenager anymore he wouldn’t appreciate it to have a _reckless_ first time.

“Thorin?” He called, a bit anxious to find his clingy position around the man, with a hand stretched across the brunette abs and a leg tangled with the muscled –and also bare- thigh.

“A moment, lovely.” He was rewarded by a calming brush on his back and so Bilbo melted into the touch, didn’t mind to close his eyes again and returned to enjoy the morning with the gentle King, except suddenly he wasn’t sure if it’s Thorin the King since the same voice now conversing with someone on the phone.

“Not that I’m complaining with how I woke up this morning, seriously this guy is so pretty but I’d appreciate it to know why I’m here with no memory for the last three days-…”

 

Bilbo frowned.

 

Thank Valar –again _-_ they did nothing aside a kiss, which now tasted sour in his mouth. Slowly, he pried himself off this stranger and scooted from the man’s side as far as he could. Unfortunately, he was caught by Thorin and the man cut the call before hauling him into a loving embrace, “where are you going? I’m not done questioning you.” If the intense blue eyes were so mesmerizing and so dreamy before, now Bilbo only felt cautious. “What’s your name, pretty?”

 

 _He didn’t even know my name!_ Bilbo shouted in frustration.

 

“Bilbo.” Yet he kindly answered, because he didn’t want any trouble when a six feet tall bulky man caged him on his bed with the muscled arms and legs.

“So cute.” Thorin smiled and Bilbo had to bit his inner cheek to remind himself it’s not the same person. It’s not the same man he loved. It’s just the body now, with a stranger soul. “Then Bilbo, I’m going to apology first. I don’t do free sex with stranger but I can’t remember anything for the last few days so if somehow I hurt you, I will take full responsible of it.”

 

 _No, Bilbo._ He snapped at himself. This is not the King, just a mere man with sweet voice and gentle words of promises. He didn’t have right to blush with the kindness or answered the man softly, “I can explain, but I don’t think you’ll believe.” When Thorin said nothing and only kept staring, Bilbo cleared his throat and added, “It’s a long story anyway. Maybe we can talk while eating breakfast?”

 

“Very well.”

 

Bilbo sighed in relief when he was released, but it only lasted for a second as he watched Thorin sat on the bed to get dressed, wondered how he could live with hollowness in his chest now he knew the King he loved wasn’t here anymore.

 _So this is a good bye_ , he thought while getting up and made his way out of the room, _so this is a heart break._

 

*

_Thorin sat in the middle of bed, the thick quilt covered half lower of his bareness. His gaze met with the tall blue tapestry of Durin’s Folks hung on the wall across him. His eyes casted around, watching the dark bedroom with frown. He was back, and there’s nothing could contain this flood of happiness pumped through his veins, clenched and unclenched his poor heart until it hurt and made his face swelled in flushing red as he looked both his fingers and rubbed his beards._

_He was back._

_With alert, Thorin turned to his side and then his tears just melt. There’s Bilbo, tucked safely beneath the quilt and breathing soundly in a deep slumber and the King just cried while watching his hobbit. He was back, his mind announced in celebration. “I’m back.” he muttered in guttural sob._

_“Thorin?”_

_He groaned softly as Bilbo blinked and stared at him in a drowsy confusion, “What hap-…. Good gracious!” and when the hobbit realized he was crying, Bilbo shifted to sit and immediately ran a check on him, “why are you crying? Are you hurt? Is the wound…” and when the smaller palm grazed the scar on his chest Thorin grabbed it and hugged it close to his rushing heartbeat._

_“Nothing.” Thorin whispered rawly, “it doesn’t matter now you’re here with me.”_

 

*

 

A/N: How was it? Should I stop? Should I continue??? 


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